


A New Perspective

by Davechicken



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Early Relationship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-10
Updated: 2019-07-10
Packaged: 2020-06-25 21:55:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19754533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: Crowley hasn't told Aziraphale that they're going on Dates. Aziraphale has not told Crowley he knows. Eventually, one of them snaps.





	A New Perspective

Aziraphale was not a betting angel, and if he was... okay, the _occasional_ odds had been exchanged, but they were always _with_ Crowley. And you could hardly bet about him with him. He’d then throw the whole system in his favour.

Plus, then he’d have known earlier that Aziraphale was very aware of what he was up to. And it did no harm to string him on for a little, to see how long he could draw out the delicious tension. To see when he’d snap.

(He was, you see, just enough of a bastard after all.)

There’d been several times when he’d been sure ‘this’ was it. The moment. The watershed. But every time, Crowley had chickened out or laughed it off or blundered his way out of it. It was almost pathetic, in an adorable but devastating way. 

How long could he keep pretending he wasn’t trying to seduce him? No. Wrong word. _Court_. Because the lovely meals, the nice shows, the walks in the park... the ‘oh I heard about this cake and it’s too big for me to eat it on my own’s, the ‘I look stupid going on my own so shut up and put your coat on’s... He’d do nice things and try to play them down with micro-aggressions, or dismissive comments. 

But he’d keep doing them. And he’d take great pains to hide his great pains. And he’d pick the most thoughtful of ‘dates’. And ignore the brush of a foot (quite ‘by accident’), or fingers lingering when they passed items from hand to hand.

Aziraphale was starting to lose faith that he’d ever pluck up the courage to admit he was trying to woo him, and that the’d spend the next six thousand years just... going on the longest first date that had ever happened, ever.

(He couldn’t ask _first_. It was the principle of the thing. Plus, Crowley might freak out and reject him out of panic, and then they’d be in the fourteenth century all over again.)

Tonight, though... Crowley had been dancing about like he was on consecrated ground all night. Laughing a bit too loudly. Bending forks until they snapped and had to be repaired (and hiding the fact he’d done it). They’d had a fabulous meal, and better wine, and when they were supposed to part ways...

“You maybe – fancy it?”

“Fancy... what?”

Covered eyes had flickered up to the big circle of seats by the Thames. “The Eye.”

“Oh? I... I suppose I never have been on it.”

“Londoners don’t do tourist things.”

“We are hardly—“

“We’ve been here longer than there’s been democracy, angel. I think we count.”

So they’d purchased tickets. Managed to convince the operator to close the door on the two of them. Wheeled slowly above the dark, but light-flooded sky of the Big Smoke. Aziraphale sitting neatly, Crowley squirming around and swinging his legs and looking anywhere but at him.

“Beautiful,” the angel had prompted.

“Huh?”

“Don’t you think?”

It was. But he meant something else. 

“S’weird. They make this just to look at it from here.”

“But it gives a fresh perspective. A... distance. And a way to see the bigger picture.”

“Mostly looks like a mess.”

“But a beautiful one.” Aziraphale was not giving up. 

At the apex, the capsule paused again. Aziraphale made sure that period extended indefinitely, and leaned across to look beyond the demon, brushing against him to better hear the thudding of his heart. Felt it echo in his own breast. Wondered if he should—

“You... do... know what I’m doing, right? Uh... trying to do?”

Aziraphale smiled. “I think so. But you could enlighten me.”

“...I mean. We’re friends. You do admit that, now?”

Oh, blessed thing! He really was—

“—soIwasmaybetryingtoseeifyouwantedtouh—“

Aziraphale slipped his hand against Crowley’s, and squeezed. “You wanted to see if I should like to go... further?” he prompted.

A squeak, most unbecoming, and a paralysed demon. Then a tiny nod. “Imeanifyou—“

It was close enough. Aziraphale leaned in, taking those dark glasses away with one hand, and placed the very softest of kisses to the bumbling lips. He was tired of playing hard to get, and Crowley was truly making an effort. So it was okay. 

When he pulled back, he folded the sunglasses down and slipped them into his own breast pocket. “You can have these back at the end of the ride.”

He wanted to see those gorgeous, slitted eyes blink and struggle to focus. Wanted to watch the way his cheeks went red. It was thrilling to see how deeply affected he could be by such a little gesture, and Aziraphale found it made no small impact to himself, either. 

“...so... that’s a yes, then?”

“I had already agreed to go steady with you. You just hadn’t asked me yet.” He squeezed the hand again, and shuffled a little closer on the plastic seat, pressing against his demon. 

“Oh.”

“Don’t worry. I won’t go too fast for _you_ ,” the angel teased, and kissed his smile again. “We have eternity, after all.”

Crowley had remained the perfect – if terrified – gentleman for the rest of the ride. Quiet talking, hand-holding, and a list of suggestions for their next outing. He was clearly too far gone to do much logical thinking, so Aziraphale just enjoyed the electric feel of possibility all the way back to his shop.

The only thing he hadn’t understood, or accounted for in his bets with his self... he didn’t hear the car’s engine purr after they parted on the doorstep. 

Was he really that forwards? Was he planning on inviting himself in for ‘coffee’? After being too shy to even kiss him? The angel snuck to the window pane, and peeked out.

Only to see the parked Bentley bouncing erratically on its suspension. Bouncing, because its driver was currently doing a seated victory dance where he thought no one would see. Aziraphale watched for a moment, but didn’t want to stay in case Crowley saw him and got embarrassed. 

But there was a definite spring in his step and hum in his breath as he went to make himself some hot chocolate for the night. He stroked the spines of a few old favourites that might have helped him formulate his own strategy, and wondered where the best place for their second ‘real’ date might be. 

Maybe the car. They could drive it somewhere private and practice the kissing thing under the stars. 

That was, of course, if his demon didn’t find it too risqué. Aziraphale grinned. Driving Crowley out of his tiny mind with things had only just begun.


End file.
